


Marks of Imperfection

by xdestroying



Series: Marks of Imperfection [1]
Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, Alternate Universe - Dark, Blood and Gore, Horror, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mutilation, Suspense, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-28 21:49:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5106926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xdestroying/pseuds/xdestroying
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A serial killer is terrorizing Japan.<br/>The group of investigators assigned to find him and take him down has so far faced nothing but failure. After a while, a young, genius detective takes on the task of finally tightening the net around the ruthless killer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marks of Imperfection

_A serial killer is terrorizing Japan._  
The group of investigators assigned to find him and take him down has so far faced nothing but failure. It is like the criminal knows exactly how to slip through their fingers as cheekily as if those gaps in their strategies were huge holes.  
After a while, a young, genius detective takes on the task of finally tightening the net around the ruthless killer. This man has had nothing but success in previous cases he’s taken on. Even so, this particular case is on a whole other level. He has been following the criminal for months now, _studying his methods, trying to figure out his motivations and what his next move might be. So far the only pattern he's noticed is that the killer goes after young, attractive and successful people, regardless of their gender, who have moles on their faces._  
_But the detective has a hunch that he might be the best and only one capable of this job._  
_Because the description of the killer’s victims matches him perfectly._

_*_

-      **Pleased to make your acquaintance, Detective Matsumoto Jun-san.**  
**I was hoping you would start chasing me soon. We’re having fun now aren’t we? I look forward to seeing what you make of this little gift I have left for you.**  
**Your move. -**

The killer has written him a note.  
Jun stares with wide eyes, his mouth hanging slightly open in shock. He would be lying if he said he’s not a tiny bit scared.  
The whole wall is covered in the red writing, letters bold and thick, the blood still fresh enough to keep trickling down and staining the white paint. It would not be too far-fetched to assume the blood is the victim’s, judging from the lake of crimson red on the floor, the grotesque way the victim is almost unrecognizable as she is sitting on the chair in the corner, eye-sockets empty, eye-balls thrown god-knows-where. Matsumoto has to turn around and cover his mouth as his gag-reflex triggers and his stomach surges.  
The scene is horrible. Straight out of a horror movie. The person doing this is nothing if not crazy, to be able to _do this_ to another human. And make a freaking stage out of it, calling it a present. A _present!_ And he just left, Jun realizes. If he’d just been here 5 minutes earlier, he could’ve caught the bastard red-handed. Literally. As always, the criminal slithered his way out just like that, making it look easy. As if everything is going according to his plan.  
  
*  
  
The second crime scene is not less morbid. Hunted down and trapped in an alley, the young man is sitting exactly in the middle, back to the brick wall, where the stones are now coloured the red of his body fluid, previously stainless and white. His arms have been cut off and are lying beside him, tossed away carelessly as if they were not particularly important. He is naked and both of his thighs are sliced open, giving the audience a clear view of the bone and muscle underneath.  
Jun turns away.  
The only part intact on this victim’s body is his face, only stained with his own blood where the killer has stroked his right cheek, grazing over the mole beneath his eye. Jun is disgusted and stunned and utterly horrified.  
When he talks with the forensics afterwards, they tell Jun that this killer is not particularly skilled with a knife, he’s not a surgeon and probably has no medical skills. Instead he is sloppy and clumsy, cutting here and there and everywhere, making a huge mess. But what they also tell Jun is that the killer probably does not care that his kill is not clean. He _wants_ to make a mess. He wants to splatter as much blood as possible, to humiliate and manhandle his victims as much as possible, seemingly just because it is his idea of fun.  
So, Jun now knows that the killer is most likely covered in blood.  
The psychiatrists tell him that the criminal is very close to a perfectionist when it comes to angles. The way the second victim was placed exactly in the middle of the alley, back straight, tells them that the killer is peculiar with symmetry. He does not care about the victim, but more about the scenery as a whole. Which would not be a surprise considering his level of intellect, how he apparently foresees the investigators’ every move. How he knows exactly what Jun will do, _before_ he does it – hell, before he even knows it himself.  
Adding this, Jun now knows his criminal might be well educated.  
  
*  
  
On the third crime scene, there is a new note. And it is hidden well, for only Jun to see.

 **-        How I wish I could’ve met you here in person, Matsumoto-san. But I’m afraid I’m not too fond of the company you keep.**  
**We’ll have to meet another time, another place. Until then, enjoy my newest creation. Let me know what you think of it. -**

The young girl is nailed to the wall between the two sharp wings of the ventilator, one of them decorated with the blood red message. Her eyes and mouth are wide open in a shocked expression, her skin flawless except for the three moles decorating her jaw like little dots of misplaced paint. There’s a hole in the middle of her forehead, a bullet wound, and a small road in dried blood makes its way to the bridge of her nose.  She can’t be more than 14.  
When Jun takes a step forward to touch her, to cut the robes around her wrists and ankles, to take down the body for examination, there’s a roar and a high pitched groan echoing through the tunnel, and Jun winces. The ventilator starts. The movement of one of the sharp wings makes Jun step back just fast enough to avoid it. And the metal cuts the girl in half, splattering blood all over Jun; on his brown trench coat, on his pants, on his arms, and on his face. He is blinded and his eyes sting.  
The detective turns his head rapidly. And throws up on the sewer floor.  
Unsurprisingly, the body is cut _exactly_ in half.  
  
That night, Jun goes to a bar. He is tired and he is beat and he feels utterly like a failure when he orders the third glass of whiskey, downing it in one go by throwing his head back, black hair falling into his eyes. He does not care about his surroundings. He needs to drink and get drunk and forget all the blood he’s seen for the last month. If he knew he’d have to face such horror he never would’ve wanted to become a detective, he would’ve stayed with the police; solving innocent cases regarding theft and drug dealings. This thing is on a whole other level.  
When the fifth glass is put in front of him, an unknown hand reaches across the counter and pays for him. Through the blurred vision at the corner of his eye, he sees a man around his height standing next to him, and apparently he’s wealthy, judging from the expensive watch around his wrist. Jun turns around to face him as the man says, “That one’s on me,” and his heart jumps in his chest. The guy is _gorgeous_.  
His hair is jet black, parted in the left side, and styled neatly, and _man_ those eyes have to be as black as dark chocolate when they catch his own. Jun blames it on the alcohol: That he’s instantly attracted to the guy, wanting nothing but to melt into those strong-looking arms and drown in the slightly hot gaze he sports. It does not make it worse that his lips are full and soft, and his laugh warm and contagious when he grabs Jun’s upper arm to steady him. Apparently he was swaying a bit there. Whoops. Can you blame him.  
“Hey, watch it there. Are you ok? Maybe I shouldn’t have bought you that last drink,” The man chuckles. And Jun believes it is the most wonderful sound in the world.  
“Sorry,” is all he gets to say before the man shakes his head at him,  
“You look like you’ve had a rough night. You probably need it. So, let me join you in your misery. Deal?”  
Oh you fucking _bet_.  
 The man’s name is Sakurai Sho, and he’s the vice president of a very successful business company in Tokyo - which explains the expensive watch and the crisp suit. Jun doesn’t catch the name of it going through his genkan though, since he’s way more interested in opening Sho’s belt buckle without letting go of the man’s delicious lips as he sucks on his tongue. But businessman or not, he is exactly what Jun needs to help forget all the horrible things he’s seen when Sho fucks him hard and mercilessly into the pillows of Jun’s bed, making Jun scream so loud he knows he’s disturbing his neighbors. But Jun does not care. His mind has already drowned in whiskey and sex.  
When he wakes up, he still feels all hazy. It takes a second for him to remember where he is, where he went last night, what he did. But then he feels the warmth wrapped around him, the slender arms gentle around his waist and he remembers, and smiles because Sho stayed. Sho did not leave before Jun woke up, which hopefully means the man thinks the sex was as amazing as Jun thinks it was, and not just because he’s a late sleeper. When Jun decides to get up and make coffee, he is careful not to wake the other man, slipping smoothly out of his arms to go take a shower. His body tingles when he walks, and he realizes that he’s sore. But it’s soreness in all the right places, and Jun admits to himself he hasn’t felt this good for a month, while he’s been chasing the serial killer. If he had known how he could recharge like this, he would’ve definitely done it earlier.  
But then again, maybe he was just lucky to meet the right guy last night, he reflects as he passes through the bedroom again, looking at Sakurai’s sleeping form. He’s changed positions, lying on his stomach now, the covers having slipped down, only to cover his behind and his legs. Jun can’t help but linger to stare for a while, eyes following the curve of Sho’s broad neck, his strong, smooth back, how it dips just before it rises again to shape his round butt.  
Yup, he’s totally won the jackpot.  
In the kitchen he turns on the coffee machine, making sure to make enough for two, just in case Sho wants to stay for a cup. Afterwards he fetches a couple of eggs from the refrigerator and pulls out his toaster, just in case Sho is hungry enough to stay for breakfast.  
He even starts humming while he’s standing in the sunshine coming from the windows, flipping eggs and feeling like a whole new person. This whole investigation thing can just come at him now; he’s totally ready and pumped. It really is as if last night washed away all the bloody images from his inner vision.  
Jun does not have more than 15 minutes alone in the kitchen before two arms sneak their way around him, meeting in the middle at his abdomen, embracing him, before a feather-soft kiss is planted on his exposed shoulder. Jun is radiating.  
“Good morning,”  
Sho’s voice is low and a bit rough from sleep, and Jun loves it.  
“Morning,” Jun answers and turns his head to show Sho the smile plastered on his face.  
His heart skips a beat when he sees the same radiating expression on Sho’s face, “Would you… Care for some breakfast? Coffee perhaps?”  
It might be a bit of a long shot. Considering how little they actually know each other. But Jun wants to get to know Sho. Perhaps Sho wants to get to know Jun too?  
“I’d very much like that, thank you.”  
Another warm kiss, this time to the back of his neck, before Sho whispers in a low rumble, “I’ll just go and take a shower,” and he only leaves Jun in the kitchen after pressing those soft, firm lips to his nape once more.  
Matsumoto catches himself staring at Sho’s back since the man is wearing nothing but his black boxers, and sucks in a quiet breath at the way the muscles move underneath his skin around his shoulders, his spine, his lower back. Adding to the millisecond he gives himself to appreciate Sho’s firm ass, just before the bathroom door closes, he once more can’t help but marvel a bit at this creature in his apartment. If Sho noticed Jun staring, he did not complain, nor object.  
With his focus back on the breakfast and Sho safely in the bathroom, Jun allows himself to smile widely. So wide it might even look a little crazy. But then he takes a deep breath, reminds himself that it’s totally uncool to act as nervous and shy as he feels, and finds the cool Jun, the one who works as a detective and solves mysteries and makes women swoon every time he walks by, working clothes or not. He quickly finishes the eggs and makes some toast to go with it, preparing a plate for Sho and a plate for himself. Then he reaches up in the cupboards for coffee mugs, and when all of it is placed at his dining table, Sho returns from the shower, dressed in his black slacks and a white shirt. His hair is still wet, tousled, and a strand is dangling down in front of his left eye, and Jun cannot help but find it cute and insanely attractive. The first two buttons of his shirt are left open, and Jun gulps at the sight of pale skin underneath,  
“Be careful not to leave your shirt wet, you might catch a cold,” he says instead and actually instantly regrets it. Who’s he to tell something like that to Sakurai? He’s a grown-up, actually older than Jun is if only by a few years.  
The younger man is thinking about how to save the situation when Sho looks up at him through his eyelashes, head bent down a bit to look at the object of Jun’s warning. But it tugs at the corner of his mouth – Jun can see how the muscles pull at his skin – and how his lips form a smirk. And there’s no streak of coldness in his eyes when he answers, stepping closer,  
“What would you suggest I do then? Take it off?” he wraps his arms around Jun’s form, slips them around his neck to look up into his eyes. Jun realizes Sho is a bit shorter than him. Sho is grinning now, small wrinkles appearing at the corners of his eyes, and Jun shakes his head,  
“You can borrow my blow-dryer?”  
At that Sho laughs and pulls away, but only so he can take a seat in the chair opposite Jun’s and look at the neatly made breakfast Jun has cooked for him. To see the lights in his eyes then, Jun remembers why he loves to cook, why he loves to cook for someone else and not only for himself.  
“It looks great,” Sho proclaims, stars in his eyes when he looks at Jun in anticipation, waiting for his permission to start digging in.  
And Jun knows he’s in for the long haul. This man in front of him is someone he will fight with fangs and claws to see again.  
  
They go to the station together where they part to go on opposite trains. They do not kiss, not wanting to draw attention, but Sho squeezes Jun’s hand and lets their eyes connect for just a little too long, long enough for Jun to _know_ that it means they’ll see each other again. That Sho wants to meet Jun again. As soon as possible.  
  
Work that day is relatively quiet. Jun works with the other investigators and talks with the police, and he goes down to forensics to once again discuss the characteristics of the third victim, what she has got in common with the previous two dead bodies. So Jun has somewhat of a picture of how the fourth crime scene will most likely look. Because there will be a fourth victim, the whole group knows. They still have not got enough clues, they’re still not close to finding the killer, and the fact that they rely on another person’s death is enough to drive them all up the walls in frustration and guilt.  
  
  
When Jun arrives at the station two days later, it is in a run. It’s pouring outside and as he did not bring an umbrella for the sudden assault he is drenched when he finally stops in front of the reception desk where he greets his colleague. Mizuhara smiles sympathetically,  
“Should I take your coat to the dryer, Matsumoto-san?” she asks kindly, and Jun wants to hug her because of the gesture.  
Instead he just smiles and nods professionally, “Thank you, Mizuhara-san,”  
The office is quiet this early in the morning. Aside from Mizuhara, only Jun and his superior are here, but there’s a reason for this. Usually, Jun arrives later, but this morning he woke up to a disturbing phone call,  
“There has been another victim,” Ishida said in a grave voice, and if Jun had not been awake before, he certainly was when he heard those words.  
He left a note for Sho on the kitchen counter before rushing out, feeling a bit down due to the fact that he did not get to wake up with the man, but work comes first, and Sho is probably the one who understands this the most. Jun has never met someone so dedicated when it comes to time and schedules. He finds himself admiring Sho for it.  
After a quick briefing, Matsumoto follows his superior and partner out the doors, happy to see clear – though grey – skies so he does not get drenched once more. If it comes down to it this time, he’s brought an umbrella from the office.  
  
*  
  
The fourth victim is completely different from the previous ones. And Jun feels as if that talk with psychiatrists and forensics has been for naught. At this particular crime scene there’s no blood. Jun’s first thought is that this is not their killer, but someone else. Their guy would never strangle his victims by hanging them by the neck. The two investigators do not get to see the original crime scene though, since the body has been taken down from the arm of the crane from where he hung. Imagining it, Jun cannot comprehend how the killer managed to get the victim so far up, to hang that far out into nothingness. The crane is 10 meters tall and not something you just crawl onto. How was it possible?  
Another theory could be suicide, he mutters to himself, again dismissing the thought of this being the killer they’re chasing. But that’s when he notices the note in the dead man’s inner pocket. With gloves on his hands, he retrieves it delicately.  
He finds himself looking around to make sure his colleague is not near him, but Ishida is standing five meters away, questioning the crane worker. It gives Jun some kind of relief. As if he does not want to share this little interaction between himself and the killer, wanting the note for himself.

-        **Blame the weather for this boring scene. What a bummer. But let’s not cry over spilled blood, now, that would be a waste.**  
**I recently discovered a very interesting fact about you, Detective. You have quite a few of those pretty imperfections on your body too, don’t you? -**

Jun feels dizzy all of a sudden.  
  
This case has risen to a whole other level, Jun sees that. With the decreasing distance between the chaser and the chased, Jun finds himself questioning who is hunting who. He is not sure if Ishida has made this discovery too, since Jun has kept the last two messages to himself, only briefly considering whether it was the right thing to do.  
The killer knows how Jun looks. With this latest note from today, it has come to the detective’s attention that the criminal knows about his moles, about him matching the description of the criminal’s usual targets. Jun has known this from the very beginning, and somehow he wanted the criminal to know too. But for how long has he known? There is no saying how long the killer has been chasing Jun without Jun knowing. What if he’d done so from the very beginning? Letting Jun think he had the upper hand, for just a second, that they were just _this_ close to catching him every time. What if they’d always been more than a step behind, so far from catching him that they couldn’t even see him? That what they were seeing was a mirage created by the killer himself? Just to mess with their heads.  
Jun has a headache, and it will take more than his afternoon coffee to get it away.  
He goes down to forensics again. To get another shock.  
There’s only one person in the room where there should have been two, and she’s completely covered in blood, sitting in the corner with her knees tucked close under her chin. For a second, Jun thinks she’s dead, with the way her eyes are staring stiffly ahead, wide and scary.  
“Inoue-san?” he rushes to her side, and as he does so, ignores the uncomfortable, soft feeling under his shoe when he steps on something. Something he _does not_ want to look at. His hand hovers over her shoulder, when he crouches down next to her, since he’s hesitant to touch her skin. Not only because she looks like she’ll wince if he does so, but also there’s blood. So much blood. And not just that. Jun does not know what is what, but certainly there are pieces of skin, and brain and intestines on her clothes, some thick, brown stuff sliding down her cheek.  
The woman is opening and closing her mouth like a fish trying to breathe, and she’s shaking all over. When Jun follows her unrelenting stare, he finds the table, where the dead body was supposed to be, covered in a thick, indescribable mass of bone and flesh. It is so horrible he has to look at Inoue again, just to try and ignore the churning in his stomach.  
“What the hell happened here?”  
There is no way the forensics could have done this. No way could Inoue and her colleague’ve made the body look like that. Like… Like it had exploded from the inside, hauling bits of sticky, bloody pieces to the walls, the tables, the floor.  
 Inoue is still not speaking, she is still shaking and being all mute like a sick person with an epileptic fit, so Jun shakes her by both of her shoulders. And gets blood all over his hands.  
“Sa… Satomi,” the woman breathes, “Sa… Satomi-san is gone,”  
And then she finally snaps out of it and breaks down crying.  
  
  
The whole office is in a state of chaos. The killer has been here. Right under their very noses and no one saw, no one heard, no one _felt anything_. And the fourth dead body is unrecognizable, blasted into a puzzle of flesh, and there’s still blood _freaking everywhere_ on the basement floor.  And one of their own is gone, probably abducted by that psycho because she had a mole behind her ear. How could he have known?  
How could he have known!?  
Jun asks himself that question over and over and over again that night as he twists and turns in his bed. Sho is not picking up, and there’s no one to talk to but his own bad conscience.

  
-        **Does anyone ever count those moles for you Jun? I wonder how many I would be able to find.  –**

  
Ishida can’t take it anymore and asks to be taken off the case, when they find Satomi’s head in a cardboard box addressed to Detective Matsumoto Jun.  
A new person steps in to take his place. A man named Ninomiya Kazunari, a newcomer, who’s as lazy as they get.  
But Matsumoto just looks at him with concern.  
He’s got moles on his face too.  
  
Sho officially moves in with Jun even if the detective warns him that it probably isn’t the best time; that Sho probably won’t get to see the best of Jun, since everything seems to be pandemonium.  
But the businessman just smiles and shakes his head, arguing that Jun needs something stable, a constant variable by his side during these harsh times. He needs someone to keep him sane, he says.  
Jun is thankful.  
And Sho does not have any moles. Which leaves him out of the equation.

  
-        **I am running out of potential bodies here, won’t you figure it out soon?  
I can’t wait for the grand finale. Jun. Catch me. - **

  
It is a quiet evening in his apartment on the 31 st of October. Bent over shattered pictures and papers of all the victims, Jun can’t believe his eyes. So many bodies. So many dead people. Even before he was assigned to the case, the killer had taken several lives. How can he live with himself if he does not catch this guy? How many people will be lost on his account if he quits, if he throws in the towel? As much as Jun can understand the reason for Ichida quitting, he cannot make himself do the same. It would not be right. Even if he is also to die in the process, he would never give up…  
Amongst the official case files are all the notes from the killer, addressed to Matsumoto. The bold, black-inked letters are dancing before him, mocking him, screaming at him how he is moving further and further away from solving the crime. Even if he is telling himself he has to catch this lunatic, is he actually giving up? The letters fill out his whole vision before blurring before his eyes, smudging out and getting all mixed up in his head.   
“- **recently discovered a very interesting fact about you..” – “I wonder how many I would be able to find…” – “We’ll have to meet another time, another place...” – “- won’t you figure it out soon..” –  “Let me know what you think of it.”  “Jun. Catch me.” –**  
**“Your move.”**  
  
He jolts upright, his chair falling over, clattering on the floor. It is the only sound in his silent apartment. The sun has gone down, pulling a dark blanket over the windows, engulfing the living room in grey shadows. Jun can hear the sound his throat makes when he swallows a lump, he can feel his heart slamming against his ribcage.  
He can’t breathe. He absolutely cannot breathe.  
“All along…” he chokes, his voice a whisper. “Sho…”  
“I was wondering when you’d figure it out.”  
Whipping around so fast he has to grab hold of the table so he does not fall to his knees, Jun stares straight at his lover, standing less than two meters away, unmoving, like a marble statue. There is a white plastic bag in his left hand, a cap in the right. In this moment, he looks like a complete stranger. His expression is unreadable, his voice cold. Jun shivers, fights the urge to shake and throw up. This man. This _thing_. He’s let it into his house. Into himself. Into… Fuck. He _slept_ with this monster.  
“You- you…”  
He can’t speak, can’t form a coherent sentence, he’s shaking so badly. From anger, regret, fright. Jun is a sore loser, and he has lost. Big time.  
Sho scratches his head in a nonchalant manner, “Jun, I seriously thought you were cleverer than that. I can’t believe I had to find so many people with moles for you to finally get the picture. And I literally had to spell it out for you.”  
Jun still can’t understand this, it does not sink in. Why Sho? Why? There’s a clutching sensation around his throat, his heart. For as long as he can remember, he has never enjoyed being with a person as much as he enjoyed being with Sho. The best part were the mornings really; waking up to Sho’s scent and Sho’s warmth, cooking him breakfast, sneaking peaks at him over coffee. That will all be over now.  
“Why didn’t you just kill me off?” His voice sounds weak, a wheeze due to the lock on his throat.  
The other man tilts his head slightly, his tousled hair moving over his left eye, “Are you serious? That’s no fun,”  
There is no rush in his movements when he walks over to the kitchen counter and puts down the bag of groceries. Jun can hear the slight clang of beer and suspects the man has brought home new ones for the fridge. How appropriate. He grimaces. It is not until Sho turns towards him again, cap abandoned too, and says, “My, that’s a nice expression. I didn’t know you could look like that,” that he realizes he’s snarling at the older man.  
His eyes flicker to his coat. To the gun in the pocket. And then he moves.  
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,”  
Sho’s voice does no longer sound amused. There is death in his words as he presses the blade of a small knife closer to Jun’s neck. The blade is shining silver, a promise of its sharpness, and Jun bets this is the weapon Sho has used to kill all his victims, to cut them up and make their deaths a canvas of blood. His hot breath tickles Jun’s ear and Jun shivers. This time, it is in disgust.  
“Get away,” he grits out, hand only just closed around the butt of the gun. It feels cold in his hand, solid and promising. Though that promise was taken away sooner than he expected – by the knife at his throat.  
Sho does not answer, but leans further into Jun so he can feel the man’s body against his back. He gags. Really gags, which results in the blade temporarily biting into his soft flesh. A whimper escapes him with the pain, a sound he definitely did not want to make. Even if Sho has cornered him like this, there is no way he would disgrace himself by sounding so weak. He’s disgusted with himself. But then Sho chuckles, that sound Jun found so wonderful before tonight, and he closes his eyes briefly. And hates himself for still loving it. It still causes goosebumps to rise on his arms and his heart rate to quicken – if possible in this situation. And what does that make him?  
“You know, like this,” Sho is whispering, and there is dark lust in his voice when he snakes an arm around Jun’s waist, placing it softly on his abdomen, “You’re so hot,” the last word is a mere breath so close that Jun feels Sho’s lips on the shell of his ear. The man’s hips press into Jun’s behind, forcing him to feel Sho’s erection.  
The detective is now utterly shocked and terrified, shaking again when the killer licks his ear, trailing a wet line down his neck to catch the blood just below the silver blade. Sho hums against his skin,  
“Jun, these moles of yours,” he points out, “They are like a night sky. I could spend hours drawing different patterns between them,”  
Jun does not respond. He lets Sho do what he wants, though he swallows another whimper when Sho’s hand travels lower, rubbing his crotch,  
“You want it,” Sho growls, biting at the corner of his mouth, “As much as you hate it, you still want it,”  
With the knife resting at his throat and the killer’s hand now opening his jeans, sneaking past the waistband, Jun lets out a mixture between a moan and a sob – a pathetic sound which Sho returns with another growl. He takes hold of Jun’s erection.  
And then Jun points the gun directly against his forehead.  
“Step. Away.”  
Silence answers. He can’t even hear his own breathing as he looks back over his shoulder. Without making any noise at all, Sho moves away, takes a step back, and Jun turns to stare into his black eyes. They are cold, utterly, stone cold. His mouth is set in a hard line, no trace of the previous heat in his words. Standing still, knife at his side, Jun sees him clearer than ever. This is who he is: A calculating bastard and a lunatic. Killing for the sake of killing.  
“Tell me one thing,” Jun demands as he rubs his sore neck, gun still pointing right at Sakurai’s head, “How many people did you exploit like this before killing them? How many people did you sleep with?”  
He is met with only silence and Sho lifting his head a bit, challenge in his glare. And something else. Hurt? Regret? But it is only a flicker, before an obstinate expression takes over,  
“Answer me!”  
“Only you.”  
Jun’s wrath evaporates and he blinks stupidly. He shakes it off with a snort and tells himself not to believe this murderer, not to let himself get played so easily.  
“Liar.”  
“Only you, Jun.”  
“Liar! Tell me the truth, you lying psycho. There is no use in lying to me now!”  
Sho sighs, and Jun’s hand is unstable as the gunpoint follows the spot right between Sho’s eyes when the killer bends his head to look to the floor. When he looks up at Jun again, the ice is no longer covering the emotions behind his eyes, but is replaced by the same thing Jun could not pinpoint when Sho stood in the door, finally exposed, a few minutes ago,  
“I told you. You are perfect. You are perfect, and I will only have you. You are the golden price. The best of the best.”  
Jun grits his teeth, keeps himself from yelling. If he lets his emotions get to him now, Sho will certainly have no problem turning the tables again. This is the last match, and though he’s lost everything until now, he will win this time. He shakes his head,  
“You are incredible. You-“  
“How will you ever live with this, Jun?” Sho interrupts,  
“Stop calling me that-“  
“How will you ever be able to face a normal life again after this, huh? After you kill me and close the case. With all the lives lost, how will you move on? You can’t, can you?”  
He does not sound mocking, doesn’t sound challenging. Even so, it angers Jun,  
“That is not your problem, not your business. I’ll kill you, I _will_ kill you.”  
“Will you?” Sho tilts his head again. He has noticed the crack in Jun’s voice. He _knows_ , “I don’t think you will.”  
It becomes increasingly hard to hold onto the gun. His palm is sweaty, acid prickling through his arm from holding it up for too long, his finger on the trigger hesitant. Jun knows this is the worst situation he could be in. He is not an agent. He is a detective. Not trained to kill. Not even… This time he bites his lip, fighting his traitorous heart.  
Seeing Sho standing there, all exposed before the opening of Jun’s gun, not flinching at all, Jun feels insecure and pushed into a corner, even if he is the one holding the weapon.  
He is utterly beautiful, Jun cannot help but think. His head held high, hair falling back, eyes intense and so full of… Life. Despite the death he leaves in his wake. The man is in his casual clothes; blue jeans and a white V-neck showing off his collar-bones and muscular shoulders.  
Jun cannot take the life of this creature. In all his insanity and frightening intelligence, he is magnificent. And Jun simply _cannot_ make himself erase something so exquisite, though so terrifying.  
It is not until the killer grabs the gun, takes it gently out of his hand that he realizes he has been defeated. By his own emotions. Jun does not know who is sicker; the twisted monster in front of him, or the man who loves that very creature.  
Sho throws the gun to the floor with a thud and wraps his arms around Jun’s faltering form as he gives in, “Don’t worry Jun,” Sho whispers against his lips, “I will teach you everything. I will fix you and make you enjoy every second of it.”  
His lips meet Jun’s, and the younger man has got no power left to fight it, so he sighs and gives in to Sho’s embrace. It stirs inside him again when he feels Sho’s tongue in his mouth, his hands behind, pressing Jun’s crotch against his own,  
“And I want you to show me how much you love me,” Jun moans into Sho’s mouth, “I have someone I want you to kill,”  
As Sho moves his hips in circular motions, causing friction to send shivers of pleasure to pool between Jun’s thighs, Jun can only force out a “Who?”  
And Sho is smiling against the mole under his lips,  
“Ninomiya Kazunari.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for this year's Trick or Fic challenge on LJ.
> 
> This was requested by an Anonymous user on LJ. I wrote a small intro based on the prompt made, since I thought it fit the story.  
> It's the first time I've written anything this gory, but it really made me realize how much I like writing these kinds of fics.  
> So thank you Anon (:

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this year's Trick or Fic challenge on LJ.
> 
> This was requested by an Anonymous user on LJ. I wrote a small intro based on the prompt made, since I thought it fit the story.  
> It's the first time I've written anything this gory, but it really made me realize how much I like writing these kinds of fics.  
> So thank you Anon (:


End file.
